[se] for all her anger

”Maybe they just know you are sweeter,” she says with a bit of amusement. After all, she doesn’t hold it against Maea that Ludo will show for her but not for Weaver. Though really, if they were smart, they’d realize that the first god to show the Abandoned some favor might actually win a whole army of Abandoned to their side. Lucky for them, The Voice had turned her back on her own too just as soon as she became something more, preferring her new children to those who were like her, once.

Enjoying the quiet comradery that flows between them, each working on their own magic, Weaver appreciates learning from the more experienced Maea. Maybe someday Weaver could return the favor, or maybe she could just be someone to beat up with some water and ice. Either option worked, she supposed.

The blush on Maea’s otherwise very pale skin is noticeable, and Weaver keeps from grinning. When was the last time Weaver had blushed? It was a great question, because she can’t think of a time. She just wasn’t that sort of girl, blushing neither for a particular boy or a particular action, but she finds that she likes Maea all the more for being that type of girl. There is something infinitely sweet about it in a world that lacks sweetness. Sweet, and yet from a girl who could best an ursur.

”Aaah,” she says, an understanding sort of sound. ”He is rather the attractive sort,” she muses, but it’s clear in the way she says it that she means more than just looks and at the same time, that she’s not interested. She can see the appeal, but there would be no competition from Weaver, at any rate. ”I suspect he’s a tough one to love.” Her voice softens a bit, looking at Maea with something vaguely like understanding in her eyes. Not that she understood on a personal level, except that she was the sort that was hard to love.

Her brows raise just slightly at the mention of the bar, and her eyes sparkle. How much exactly did Maea know? A lot, she thinks, if Maea had indeed been seeing Sunjata. Pillow talk often divulged secrets. ”The Kraai,” she says, offering the name and confirming it. ”Soon, I think. Before Deepfrost. A few details to sort out and then I just need to get the place put together.” She pauses for a moment, waving her hands idly in the air and pulling a piece of fire toward her, clearly just for something to do and not so much to practice. She still likes the visual effect of using her hands. ”Hopefully you’ll stop by, at the very least, once it’s open?”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Sweeter? Maea's mouth quirked at that, a half smile both embarrassed and doubtful. She didn't feel very sweet, and did not doubt there were others far more deserving than herself... But she didn't argue. Couldn't find any good counters to offer. She shrugged.

Weaver's reaction to the revelation of her love-interest was not entirely unexpected. Still, the comment made Maea's eyes narrow on her for a moment, that blushing sweetness fading in favor of something greedy and possessive, like hackles raised and teeth bared in a snarl that screamed mine!... until the disinterest finally hit home, and the girl relaxed. More than a little embarrassed to let her jealousy show through so plainly.

"Oh, it's very easy to love him," she objected, a whole heart in her quiet voice. But her smile was still sad, a little bitter. "It's the 'living with' part that get complicated. We both have baggage... he far more so than me." And one of the burdens had a name, that kept repeating itself at the back of both their minds.

It was far easier to think about the bar, and Weaver's upcoming new occupation as bartender. "Kraai... that's Korofi," she commented, straightening up a little move as she recognized the sound of the word, the intonation. The foreignness of it. "What does it mean?" Sunjata hadn't told her that part.

"Of course. I've offered to help build it too, as I'm here already... he said he wanted it to be guild business though. So I suppose it depends on whether you have enough hands." Another clue; Maea did indeed know about the guild. About the darker side, the other purpose to this tavern. A hideout for thieves and rogues, a shelter for shadows to dwell when the light became too strong. But even though she knew... she wasn't part of it herself.

"What... made you want to become a barkeep?"  she asked, glancing up at the other woman. Curious, not knowing the reasons for the interest. In bars, or in shadows.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

She can’t help but chuckle a bit at the possessive reaction, but Weaver throws up her hands and give Maea a wink. The fire jerks slightly with the motion before she remembers to put it down, letting the flames she’d been playing with sputter out. Good thing she’s not close to Maea or prone to explosive magically discoveries. ”All yours, promise.”

She listens as Maea explains, nodding slightly. ”A better way to put it,” she concedes, having of course meant that he was easy to love, by too many people. That would be the part that made it hard. ”That is the problem though, I suspect. Being too easy to love, and, I’m guessing on his part, a little prone to enjoying pretty faces.”

She nods again as Maea points out the name is Korofi. ”Raven,” she says, shifting around so her back is facing Maea. Weaver tugs her clothing out of the way as best she can, revealing one of the ravens tattooed across her shoulder. There are two more, one for each lost family member, though it’s impossible to display them all while clothed. ”A bit of his influence, a bit of mine.” It was all very poetic, she supposes.

Her eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the guild. ”I’m not sure who’s planning to help other than Sunjata, so we may need help anyway. Or I may just override him and ask for a woman’s touch on some things. I don’t think he’ll argue too much.” She winks slightly, unsure what sort of help they might need or not. They’d know soon, though. To be honest, she doesn’t even know everyone who is in the guild yet, but that too would change when they met.

”I’ve been a hunter all my life. It’s good work in Halo, but it’s dangerous as hell. I spend enough free time in bars that I know my way around one, and it’s a steady and safer occupation. It was hard to say no.” It was the sort of thing Korbin could easily work with her, turning it into a small family operation. It gave her a stability she has never even dreamed of knowing.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea flushed at the defensive gesture, the wink, the embarrassment only deepening. "Sorry, it's just... Yes. You're right. He seems to catch the eye of at least someone in every crowd, and he's not really shy about looking back... and I know it. So I get... jealous. But that's part of the problem? He's got all this experience of playing around and I've... none. Never even kissed a boy before him. I still can't tell casual flirting from genuine interest." It was all more than Maea had thought to say, more than she knew she wanted to reveal. But it was easy talking to Weaver, and it felt good to have someone listen. Someone who didn't have preconceived notions, or was too closely invested, personally.

It felt good to vent, too. Not having to cloak anything in pretty words, or be careful about hurting others with her own emotions.

Weaver confirmed the name, and turned to show off a tattoo. Maea stood and came over, to look at it more closely. "That's beautiful," she said, clearly impressed with the level of detail in the inkwork. "It's only fair that it would be named for you, if you're the one to run it."

Leaving the magic to rest for a while, Maea turned and strolled towards the gazebo. Seats had been spaced out within it, and from her bag she pulled an ursur pelt. Her part of the animal they had been forced to kill during training. Spreading it onto one of the benches, Maea sat down and leaned back, gesturing for Weaver to come join, if she wanted to. Within the walls that shielded from the wind, and with the fire crackling as it consumed the log, it was almost cozy.

"I'm not sure, either," she admitted, thinking of the mysterious guild they were both connected to. "I'm aware of some members, but not all. Two of them died recently, here in Halo... part of the reason why Sunjata isn't keen on staying here very long." She shrugged, biting down the surge of grief when she remembered her lost friends. "I doubt there's much he would deny you though, if you just have a reason for requesting it. He really wants this expansion." And by the sound of it, so did Weaver. Maea could understand the desire for a safer living, on some level at least. But she had sold her farm, thrown away everything that was comfortable and familiar... and now she was here. Slinging magic in the wilderness, with a stranger by her side. Comfortable with calling her friend, despite the lack of common history.

"If you ever need help with anything, just say the word," she offered with a smile. "My father used to make cider... I have his book of recipes, if you ever feel like starting your own brand of flavor. I'm sure we could adapt some of them to fit with what Halo has to offer in way of ingredients."

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

”Can I offer some...advice, I guess. Sort of advice?” She shrugs, not sure it’s exactly advice, but rather maybe just friendly girly bonding. Honestly she doesn’t know, because she doesn’t do this that often. There are not a lot of females in her life, and it’s strangely nice to have girl talk. ”You know who he is. You have to love all of who he is. Which means the part where he looks back. At the end of the day, girl, if he’s coming home to you, you’ve won.” She knows it’s easier to say than to live with, and certainly easier still for a girl like Weaver, she suspects. She’s the type of girl who’s never had a problem looking back. ”If you want to get some experience though, I will do my best to help.” It’s not like two pretty girls in a bar couldn’t find something to do, after all.

Letting her clothes fall back into place, Weaver turns back around. ”Thanks. There’s a good tattoo artist in Halo. We don’t have much, but do have that,” she says with a chuckle. ”Sunjata’s been pretty open to my influence, really. I can’t complain. He wants just enough of the VlamVloed in there to make them obviously connected, but everything else he’s left to me. It seems like a fair enough trade.”

Weaver cringes just slightly at the sight of the ursur pelt, the reminder of that training sitting so plainly before her. She had to give Zariah credit for not wasting the animal though, or keeping it to herself, both of which would have pissed her off more. Weaver had gotten more meat than she knew what to do with, and she’d dried it out to last for the foreseeable future. Tossing another log from her pack onto the fire, Weaver comes to join Maea. She removes her scythe and places it next to her, so she can sit down more comfortably. She leans back on one arm, legs crossed, a picture of casual confidence, of a girl who belongs in the middle of a tundra.

”Well you know more than me,” she admits. Weaver had signed on without knowing much of anything, jumping headfirst into something perhaps she ought to have asked more questions about. Though Weaver was prone to doing that in much of her life. The next thing has her cocking her head slightly. Two had died? ”Can I ask what happened?” she says, voice a little quieter, respectful of the dead.

Her interest quirks at the offer to make cider. Grinning widely, Weaver nods. ”I would absolutely love that, if you’d be willing.” Raza had her mamajuana, which tasted exactly like Torchline. Weaver wanted something that tasted like Halo. A little cider, a little whiskey...something deep and bold and warming. Like sitting beside a crackling fire on an ursur pelt.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea nodded when Weaver asked if she would take advice. At this point? Any views other than her own were welcome, to perhaps break up the never ending cycle of thoughts that honestly got her nowhere. And as she listened, she found the points to be... well worth thinking about. It came from someone far more tolerant and far more self-possessed than herself, a woman who didn't hang her self-worth on the presence or absence of anyone else. Maea approved of that, wanted to be like that. Only problem was... "I think... I'd love to be like that. I have so many control issues though... How do I settle for less than everything?" Ah. Perhaps she was a touch greedy too.

Weaver came to join her by the fire, and Maea settled in easily, happy with the company and this more than pleasant turn of events. Perhaps she wasn't getting as much training done as she would have on her own, but kindling a new friendship seemed far more rewarding in the end. She listened and hummed her understanding, eyes lingering thoughtfully on the other woman. "What would you like to do with it? And I'd love to help you make that liquor... Can you think of any flavors that remind you of Halo? Aside from meat," she added, with a wry grin. It seemed to be the main staple as far as food went.

As she was asked what happened to the dead guild memebers however, Maea grew silent. Had to think for a long time, trying to find context in the story... so that it would make sense. Put into perspective. Do them all justice.

"This Fiat Lux... I don't know if you've heard about it, but a monster attacked the festival. Some tried to stop it - Loren and Sunjata among them - but in the end, it killed a lot of people. Among the dead was the daughter of the Fallen Star, Safrin's demi-god... He went crazy, mad with grief, and went to destroy the Shrine within the Hollowed Ground Temple." Maea looked out across the wastes. It was all hearsay; this had occurred the same day she came back from Limbo. She had been staring at the ruins of her home when all this happened. "In the end, the shrine was destroyed, and Sunjata was tasked with restoring it. He led the reconstruction of the building, and had to procure ingredients to sanctify the shrine again; something alive once dead, something dead once alive, and the heart of a rare creature."

Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes. "He... decided to go after a dragon. One of the white ones, because he thought perhaps it could be taken back alive, that it wouldn't have to be killed... People had asked him not to. So he gathered up a group of Safrin's Attuned, and came here to Halo... and things did not exactly go as planned. They found a cannibal, who Sunjata ended up killing, and when they found the dragon, it... killed two of the companions. Then, when they all tried to reason with it... the dragon killed two of the men. Adam, and Peter." At least the latter name should be known to Weaver, seeing as Peter had been made a Spymaster for Halo. An official enough title for a shady job.

"In the end, they did succeed in getting that rare heart as one of the dead companions was a dragon. The shrine has been restored, and that should be that. But you can imagine the mixed feelings for everyone... both those who died were loved, friends of so many people - me included - and it's just... one too many blows."

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes. The haunted, bone-weary mess her lover had been when he returned from that nightmare... it would stay with her forever.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

She listens, nodding. She understands the desire for everything. It is the sort of desire her mother had, the sort of desire she imparted on her children. The question was, what was everything? ”Well, that’s the question I can’t answer for you. If you want everything, find someone who wants to be your everything. If you want him, love him for him. Which I know is easier said than done.” Because of course, you couldn’t always have everything you wanted. Life never really worked that way. ”Or I suppose you could wait, and see if he changes.” She shrugs, almost as if suggesting Maea is worth more than sitting around waiting for a boy. Unless she really wanted to.

She smiles a bit at the question of what she wanted to do. ”Red and black, something warm and cozy, the sort of place that invites you in and gets you to stay. Couches, maybe blankets, a roaring fire. As for flavors…” she pauses, clearly giving the idea some thought. Though her mind wanders to future times with a new friend, making cider together, making something that was not just hers but theirs. It was a far cry from the life she’d lived before the portals opened, spending too much time alone in the wilds simply hunting. It was so strange, and yet so nice. ”Something smokey and warm. Whiskey, though it doesn’t have to actually be whiskey. We could all use a break from meat.”

Weaver listens, intent, as Maea tells the story. She knows of the Fiat Lux, though Maea gives more details than she’s gotten before. Everyone was always so afraid to talk about things, but not Maea, and Weaver finds she likes the girl more for it. Things hurt less in the light, when shared among friends. They hurt less when they are given voice and made real, as strange as that seems. They hurt more when they are bottled up, when they are left to fester and rot, when they are buried under carpets or mounds of snow.

And in the end, didn’t the dead deserve to live on in stories and memories? It was the least the living could do.

She lets out a breath at the mention of a dragon. Fool. There were far less dangerous rare creatures, but everyone always wanted the dragon. There was something about them, and Weaver wonders if their power was the attractive bit. As if you could capture some of that power for yourself by capturing the dragon. Dead or alive, it did not matter. Dragons were not meant to be captured. Her face falls slightly at the mention of Peter. Weaver did not know Adam, and she did not know Peter well, but she had met him when they set up the Academy. He’d come to help, accidentally sending the whole place up in smoke, but he’d seemed kind enough. ”Thank you for sharing,” she says when Maea comes to an end.

The fire on the log jumps, crackling loudly under Weaver’s influence, stretching red flicker fingers toward the sky. There is nothing to burn for them, and besides, that was not the custom of the Hallowed Grounds, but she could offer some small thing here anyway. ”May they burn brightly in the next life,” she says, a piece of the Halovian funeral rites she’d heard and uttered far too many times.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea rubbed the back of her neck, dragging a lock of hair behind an ear. "Well... when you put it like that, it becomes very simple," she smiled, a bit ruefully. "I want him, because... well, no one else makes sense, the way it is right now. So, in the end, I guess I'll wait. Good thing there's to keep occupied with in the meantime, right?" She gestured towards the fire, the landscape, to Weaver herself and their talk about liquor, of flavors and what might be characterisic for a place like this.

"My first thought was something crisp and cool, like peppermint bark," she admitted. "Maybe with that really strong spirit you have, that doesn't really taste of anything - it's just strong?" There was probably a name for it, but Maea hadn't bothered to find out what it was yet. "But if you want smokey and warm... do you have toffee here? Or caramel? You mix milk with something sweet - like honey or beet sugar - and boil it until it thickens. That's very rich, and very flavorful. Goes with anything really, and you can mix it with alcohol. If we could manage something similar..." It would be sweet too, which probably was a bit misleading when it came to this place, but definitely a taste that would have people coming back for more, if sweetness was unusual here.

It was far more sobering to watch the sparks rise from the log, and think of people loved and lost. Weaver thanked her for sharing, and Maea nodded, not minding it. "Any excuse to remember them is welcome," she said softly. "Mort keep them." Her own prayer was short, heartfelt; wishing them rest and safety, because that was everything the Ground did not have.

Leaning back, Maea let silence settle over them. Filled only by the sounds of the world around them. Creaking and groaning ice beneath, the ever present wind, of crackling fire. It was comfortable, peaceful. A precious few breaths spent being nowhere but in the present moment, something she needed all too much.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

Weaver is impressed at how easily Maea picks. It might not have been Weaver’s choice, but she’s not here to suggest her own choices, just make them more obvious. Because in some ways, life should be so simple. It is not, of course, but if you boil it down past the muck of emotions and the pain of truth, you can find the details beneath. Pull them out, and the rest becomes a little clearer. Perhaps Weaver is just too rational in some ways, lacking the emotions that drive normal humans. Or perhaps she’s gotten so used to feeling that the emotions have become background noise. ”There is always plenty to keep one occupied,” she agrees with a grin.

Weaver listens as Maea suggests flavors, mulling over the ideas. ”Who’s to say we can only have one flavor? I do like the idea of something like peppermint bark as well. It might actually make that shit taste good.” It is not her first choice, personally, but she can see the appeal. ”We don’t have a lot of sweet things here, though we could manage some caramel.” All the ideas are good ideas, and truthfully, she wants to make them all. ”What about something mulled? Some cinnamon, some spices, a little less sweet. I suspect Sunjata will be more likely to come back for something strong and spicy,” she says, offering Maea a wink. Not that Sunjata wouldn’t come, but Weaver suspects she’ll have a lot of free reign with a boss who only visited when he needed something.

Mort keep them, Maea says, and Weaver nods. She keeps the flames roaring for a little while longer before they settle. ”I believe the dead deserve their stories. It keeps them alive, in a way,” she agrees, knowing so many don’t agree. They may not be exactly alike, but Weaver could see a friendship blooming between her and the other mage, and she is thankful for it.

Their conversation lulls, and Weaver leans back as well, pulling up the hood of her cloak and laying herself down, always the picture of someone who belongs in the snow. The cold doesn’t bother her now either, as it once did, and she appreciates the extra bit of magic from the school. ”I always wonder what the next life is like, in Mort’s realm. Do they know what is happening here? Do they even care?” she says after a period of quiet. ”I sort of hope they don’t know and don’t care, that they get to enjoy something better.”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea smiled back, her thoughts pleasantly occupied by thoughts of new projects. Already it helped stave off the gloom of uncertainty, and perhaps in time she would learn to leave it behind altogether.

"Mmh, I like the sound of that," she said, thinking about spices and herbs, flavors to combine and infuse with spirits. "Tell you what, how about I just bring the whole notebook next time, and we can have a proper look at what father has in there? I know it's mostly cider, but there might be other things too. And my brother can have added to it, I haven't looked at it for ages." She could never read well enough in the past, and hadn't bothered since, more than to confirm what the content was about.

As peaceful calm settled, Maea listened to Weaver's musing, tilting her head to look at the woman. In the dark cloak, with the hood pulled up, she looked a ghost herself. Some shadow reaper, beautiful and deadly, as home here in the frozen wastes as anywhere that life and death mingled.

"I like to think that Mort frees them of all sorrow and concern, but that they remember who they are and were. Perhaps watch over us like that, with love and understanding... I think I'd like to do that myself, at least, when my turn comes." Maea thought about her conversations with Ludo and Delphia, of the spirits and souls, of concept of rest and possible rebirth. "I have a friend... Delphia. She is Mort's daughter. Probably she could tell us exactly how it works," she smiled.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

”I think that sounds great,” she says, and she can’t help but imagine the two of them at the Kraai, a fire in the background, hunched over the notebook or playing with the supply of alcohol. Good alcohol, at that. It’s a future she never once dreamed of, full of luxury and pleasure. How strange to think it could be reality. ”It sounds like a nice excuse to hang out and drink,” she says with a chuckle and a wink. As if they needed an excuse.

Weaver listens as Maea adds to the speculation, aware of the pair of them. One made of lightness, pale and white haired. Another made of darkness, still pale but dark haired. Yin and yang, angel and demon. Spirit and reaper.

Weaver looks up slightly at the mention of Mort’s daughter. ”Oh?” she says, clearly interested. ”I admit I would be curious. Entirely selfish reasons, because I always wonder what exactly happened to my family. And Ludo and Mort have never actually answered me. Though Ludo always takes the toys..”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea knew the feeling of dreaming impossible dreams. For a year now - actually two, if you counted the time she was gone - she had thought her life was only a waking dream, about to end at any moment. To live the impossible... It took the rift between her and Sunjata and the exquisite pain of that wound to make her realize that she really was awake, alive... It really was a case of not knowing what she had until it was almost over.

"It does, doesn't it," she said, grinning at the vision conjured by her own mind. "Let's hope the fishboy gets his ass up here soon, so we can get started. I'm already looking forward to it."

She considered Weaver's reasons for wondering, nodding her understanding. Her own family had disappeared too, but there had never been any doubts as to their fate. It had been LongNight after all. Only recently had Maea learned that their souls indeed had found their way to Ludo... and it brought an immense measure of peace.

"She could absolutely help you, if you ask," Maea assured. "And don't give up on Ludo. I don't know that Mort will show any time soon, but that Ludo takes the toys mean it sees you, hears you. I don't know what reasons it needs for showing up, but... I believe that if you show that you're serious, it will eventually answer."

Maea was a devout follower of the masked god, and some of that loyal faith showed through whenever she spoke of it. Not the same kind of loving affection as when she spoke of Sunjata, but similar. Just a different flavor.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin

Perhaps they are more alike than they know. Weaver doesn’t mind the pain of her past because it helps her to live now. Would she prefer her family still be alive? Of course. She’d trade anything to have them returned to her. And yet, without that option, she lets the pain remind her she is still alive. She lets the pain remind her that she needs to live, because they cannot.

She laughs at the nickname of fishboy. ”I would really like to blame him, but I owe him a letter with a date. There’s quite a lot to organize to open a bar, as it turns out. But I found a location not too far from the market, I’m working with some of the locals to get all our supplies…” she trails off, mind ticking off the things she knows they might need, unable to stop herself. ”Though I admit, I cannot wait for it to all be done.” Because she is so ready for this next stage of her life.

Weaver’s mother’s fate is the most uncertain. She assumes Erebor and John are in Mort’s realm, and she simply wonders what life is like for them now. Her mother though? Her mother had simply disappeared. They could only assume her mother had died, but in truth, some part of her wonders if her mother managed to escape. She was the sort of woman who might have climbed The Fangs and survived. At least, in Weaver’s mind, but she suspects she remembers a version of her mother made larger by childhood and distance.

”Would Delphia be interested in a free drink? I will soon be able to trade such things for a bit of help.” That would require her coming to Halo, which was another question entirely, but people usually enjoyed their booze enough to make a trip for it. ”If Mort showed, I’d shit a brick. Hell, I will probably still do so if Ludo shows,” she says, though her expression softens a bit. ”I will try not to give up though. I don’t want to.” And that’s the honest answer. She doesn’t want the new gods. She wants her gods, the old gods, the real gods, even if they don’t want her.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Maea grinned, quietly elated at having made the other woman laugh. There was a deep kind of satisfaction in bringing joy to others, especially people she liked... and she liked Weaver a lot.

"Well, just let me know when you're done. Or if you need help. I'll try to stay in Halo, but I might head off to Tochline when I get free time. I've been rather restless lately... Loren tried to tell me to sit still and not do anything reckless, but...I don't know. There's this itch in my blood, like I have to keep moving, or I'll go crazy."

She chewed her lip, troubled by it. Unsure if the restlessness came from her troubles with Sunjata, or if there were some other underlying reasons. Jigano had hinted that she wouldn't be able to keep running forever, that there would be an end to the new and the unknown eventually... and it had her wondering. What it was she was trying to escape. If it was herself, or... something else.

Considering the question as Weaver asked about Delphia, Maea shrugged. "She might. If you feel the need of her strong enough, her spirits might even bring her to you on her own. Her way of thinking is a bit strange... but I like it. She doesn't mince words, or put nice spins on things just to keep people happy. Nor is she prejudiced about anything, as far as I've found, which is refreshing."

Reaching out a hand, understanding the feeling of not wanting to give up on a deeply personal level, Maea patted the other woman playfully on her hooded head. "Then don't, sweetling," she said, with her best impression of Ludo - it wasn't very good, but she tried - and grinned. "That choice is all yours."

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin